


this feels like fallin' in love

by botticellis (itomorian)



Series: Good Thing (The NCT Omegaverse) [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alpha Huang Ren Jun, Arranged Marriage, Beta Dong Si Cheng | WinWin, Cohabitation, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itomorian/pseuds/botticellis
Summary: He has to tiptoe the slightest bit to reach his now husband's lips, and in any other case this would have been sweet, but it isn't. Thisisn'tanother situation, and this isnotsweet.—Renjun and Sicheng are married off, and love blossoms where they'd never thought it would.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Huang Ren Jun
Series: Good Thing (The NCT Omegaverse) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1459042
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68
Collections: A/B/O NCT Round 1





	this feels like fallin' in love

**Author's Note:**

> life has been a Struggle™
> 
> All of my Endless Gratitude to god mod for organising this fest, managing it Alone, being So amazing at it, and still being the kindest person ever. thank you for bearing with my whining and being SOSOSO understanding, and for giving me extension after extension. i had the best time, and it is literally all thanks to you. 😭❤❤❤
> 
> biggest thank you to kass without whom most of this would neither be cohesive, nor exist, because god knows i was eyeballing it and wanted to end it in three scenes max. thank you for brainstorming scenes with me, yelling at me softly, and believing in me constantly. and thank you for co-parenting this fic with me. i am so grateful to you and ilysm. <333
> 
> and to rose for nitpicking at my poor grammar choices because lord knows i needed that — without you this fic would be Way less coherent than it is right now + for validating my insecure bitchass even though i'm like, illiterate + for being a source of constant serotonin. 
> 
> thank you so much to both of you for making sense out of my word vomit. and thank you very very much, again, to All of you for bearing with my whining All The Time (you people have the patience of a saint i think). really couldn't have done it without you. ❤
> 
> shoutout to m, my best friend, soulmate, and literal favourite person for being herself aka a joy to the world, and for always loving me + my bitchass fics, for holding my hand thru Every breakdown that i've had, And for being just as excited for this i am; i love u mostest, and happy birthday. 💗💞💕💖❤ and to kaia, mer, and eli, for always cheering for me. thank you so much. ilysm. ❤❤❤
> 
> okay anyway hope you enjoy reading this if you do! <3

Renjun meets Sicheng for the first time on their wedding day.

It's a cliché in all manners of meaning.

They're both strangers to each other, who learned of the other's existence hardly a week ago. Renjun is barely a month away from turning twenty-two, and today he will promise to have and to hold a man three years older than him.

Their families could not think of any better day than the fourteenth of February for them to marry, and what adds to this cliché is the knowledge that Sicheng does not want this.

Renjun is neither unaware, nor ignorant of his surroundings.

"Junjun, it's going to be alright." Yangyang whispers while he fixes Renjun's bow-tie for him. Renjun looks past his best-man at his reflection in the mirror. He looks nervous, and he needs to fix it fast.

He cannot go brave the world outside with a face that looks like he has seen a ghost, him being who he is. He sucks in a long breath, and steels his nerves. 

If he plays his cards right today, there won't be too many invasive questions asked; and at this point that is all he can strive for.

"How is it going to be fine, A-Yang?" He asks his friend, sighing deeply. He looks at the ceiling as if it will give him some answers. But even after long moments of staring at the mahogany, Renjun is just as clueless as he has been ever since the beginning of this whole predicament.

He turns his eyes away.

Yangyang walks over to the sofa and takes a seat. Sighs. Looks at Renjun and takes a flask out of the inside-pocket of his blazer and takes a sip.

"What are you drinking?" asks Renjun, pinching the bridge of his nose, torn between wanting to laugh and feeling nauseated because of his nerves.

"Rum." Yangyang grins, and takes another sip before he puts the cap back on the flask and hides it back where he took it out from. "You have me nervous enough to feel like I'm the one getting married today and not you."

Renjun chuckles besides himself.

"I'm sorry, I keep forgetting that my pheromones affect everyone around me." He apologizes, sincere in its being, and Yangyang waves it off with a smile.

"It's okay, dude. This is your first time getting married after all." says Yangyang, chuckling. He then pats the seat next to him on the sofa, a gesture for Renjun to come sit next to him, which the latter obeys. "Do you want— like— some scent masker, though?"

Renjun inhales deeply. It's supposed to be a thoughtful intake of air that would probably help him sort his thoughts out, but his senses get assaulted by the stench of bleach instead. Whatever he could've thought about goes flying out of the window, and he finds himself snickering.

"Yeah," he laughs. "Yeah. I'll take that scent masker, please." Yangyang shakes his head, with a fond smile gracing his lips, and Renjun stretches.

Yangyang brings out the tiny bottle of liquid (that does not look very different from expensive perfume) from his pant pocket and sprays it in quick spritzes around Renjun's clothes and his exposed skin.

Finally feeling the smell of bleach dispersing, Renjun murmurs a thanks to Yangyang and takes a deep breath that is finally, finally clear of any other smell but of Yangyang, muted as it may be, sweet like the chocolates that the boy loves to eat. 

Sometimes, Renjun hates that alpha and omega pheromones are so strong that everyone else is privy to them (with the obvious exception of those that use scent maskers), regardless of whether or not they want to be. But for the majority of the time, he is glad that beta scent is soft and comforting. 

Feeling restless and unsettled again, he gets up off the sofa and walks to the window of the small groom's hut and unclasps its latch. Pushes the panes open to let some fresh breeze in.

It's a little cold — it's February after all — but Renjun welcomes the coolness of the breeze to help him calm himself. He is grateful that the window is in the opposite direction from the altar, because not only does he not want to see all those people (and worsen his nervousness), he does not want to smell any of the pheromones at all.

Some deep breaths later, he closes the window and walks back to stand in front of the mirror again. He gives himself another look-over, tries to see if there is anything lacking anywhere that can be fixed within five minutes. To his relief, everything is top-notch so there is nothing that could possibly be a little glitch.

He looks over at Yangyang who happens to be scrolling on his phone at the moment, smiling and laughing at the things he sees, and sighs. 

What he wouldn't give to have a _normal_ life.

Growing up like normal children — unlike the only son of a business moghul. Going to school, and then university, having fun, making friends. Not having to worry about every single thing that he does because it won't _smear_ the family name into dirt.

He gets shaken _(quite literally)_ out of his thoughts by his best friend who happens to be standing next to him now, and Renjun lifts his gaze from the floor to see his mother standing in front of him.

"Ma." He smiles and hugs her, wondering how he did not so much as even _hear_ the door opening, while Yangyang gets pulled into the hug, completely unaware of Renjun's thought process. 

The Huang matriarch cuts a formidable figure even when she is a head shorter than her son, but her laugh when she embraces both of her boys is the complete opposite of her public image, and something that only a few people get to see. It's precious.

"My loves." Her motherly smile has Renjun's nerves beginning to calm down already so he grins back at her. She pinches his and Yangyang's cheek and coos at them.

"Okay, ma, you can stop now." teases Yangyang, laughing and rubbing his cheek when Mama Huang lets them both go. The lady rolls her eyes playfully in response.

"I'm gonna give you guys some time alone." Yangyang announces before kissing Mama Huang's cheek and skipping out of the room. It is an oddly endearing sight to see. Renjun wishes he could do that in public without a thousand and one articles being printed and posted about him doing so. 

But alas, that is not how it's going to be, is it?

"Sweet boy." laughs his mother, looking after the door Yangyang shut behind him as he left. She turns back around to look at her son and holds both of his hands in hers.

"How are you feeling, my beloved child?" She asks, perhaps knowing full well how he does. Should he still lie to her? Tell her that he's excited? That ‘ _I can't believe that I'm finally going to see and marry the man I've been infatuated with since I was a teenager!’_?

"Weird…" He chooses not to. Pauses to gather his thoughts in one place. He feels too much to properly put it all into words. "I've felt a strong affinity to the idea of _us_ ever since I was young, Ma. You of all people must _know_ that."

He smiles. He also does not say a lot of things that he is sure his mother has noticed. Like the fact that Dong Sicheng is in love with someone else. He is here today and _will_ marry Renjun, sure, but does that change the truth?

Renjun shrugs. Mama Huang smiles and it's a sad, sad thing. 

Why would they make promises for someone else? 

Promising things that they won't have to take responsibility for is just meaningless. Why make your children suffer for your lapse in judgment?

"At this moment, an apology would be an insult, and you deserve better than that, my love." His mother laments, her eyes downcast. She hugs him one more time and kisses his cheek, rubbing over his temple with her thumb softly.

"I think we should be glad, Ma." He smiles at her, lovingly like her only child that he is. "Because it could be a lot worse." 

His mother raises a perfect, curious eyebrow.

"I could be a bachelor for life." He laughs to lighten the gloomy atmosphere that the truth has brought with it into the open. Mama Huang swats his arm.

"Yeah sure…" She jabs teasingly. "You, the _hopeless romantic_ of the family. A _lifelong bachelor_." She snorts and it's funny enough to make Renjun snort out laughter himself.

"Yes Ma, please go make that sound in the open where the snobbier part of the family is seated." He snickers and runs his hand down the lapels of his jacket again. 

Nerves have never gotten the best of him, and he won't let today be the day that they do.

Mama Huang rolls her eyes fondly and smacks his arm before calling for Yangyang. The boy strolls in, sipping at champagne, and Renjun looks at him exasperatedly.

"A-Yang, please don't get stupid drunk on my wedding day. I'm gonna need your moral and physical support, man." He groans and smacks his forehead, making Yangyang giggle like a kid.

"I won't get drunk. I promise." Yangyang smiles, in the sweetest way that makes him _him_ , and extends his pinky.

Renjun chuckles and wraps his pinky-finger around his best friend's, finally feeling light and clear headed. 

Some minutes later, one of the event organising staff knocks on their door and Renjun opens the door, urging Yangyang to remain where he’s seated. “Yes, _”_ he asks the person at the door, they have a Bluetooth in one ear and a mic taped to their cheek, their hands clutching on to a clipboard full of papers. 

“Sir, it’s time for you to head to the altar,” they say, and Renjun marvels at how their voice is so detached and mechanical. Business or not, work or not, he finds it a bit hard to believe that people working in an environment that is all about bringing people together, and love, and making a family, can afford to be so removed from the emotional part of it — regardless of whose emotions those may be.

 _Hopeless romantic of the family,_ sighs his mother’s fond voice in his head.

“We’ll be right there, thank you,” he says, and the staff turns on their heels immediately, leaving Renjun to gather his thoughts and his nerves in one place.

Yangyang is by his side in the blink of an eye, warm hands on his shoulders massaging any cricks away, an affectionate clap on the middle of his back. Renjun tries to breathe past the sudden sinking in his chest that feels hollow, hollow, hollow, painful like a metal baseball bat to his sternum.

Renjun clears his throat loudly a couple more times, trying to blink back the sudden flood of tears and Yangyang rushes to him to hold his hand through the process, handing him the handkerchief he’s hidden in the inside pocket of his coat that Renjun takes with a murmur of thanks and immediately dabs at his eyes with.

“Junjun,” Yangyang’s voice comes to him like a lifeline when he’s trying not to drown, and Renjun grasps at it hard. Claws at it, and yanks, desperate to stay afloat because every atom in his body has suddenly fallen victim to gravity and can’t escape the tug that’s trying to pull him down, down, down. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be alright, buddy. I promise you that.”

Renjun hums. He hums again. Stands up with his back straight and rolls his neck, followed by his shoulders; it brings him some relief, but alas it’s not as much as he’d hoped. He almost laughs when he remembers a quote from a movie he’d watched way back when, and it should be funny how it is the same thing that gives him the reassurance that he needs to go and face the music outside.

_We hope for the best, and then make do with what we get._

Yangyang massages some of the cricks away, again. _Not today,_ Renjun assures himself, _your nerves will not get to you today, of all days._ He coughs into the bend of his elbow once, on purpose to get the air flow back into his lungs — and properly while he can. He shakes his head to clear his vision and his thoughts, and looks back at his best friend.

Yangyang grins at him like a child in a toy shop.

“Let’s get you married, buddy!”

Renjun will admit that whatever happens beyond that point up until the start of their vows is a motion blur in the back of his mind's eye.

One moment he's gasping for air in the hut and the next, he's standing at the altar and watching Sicheng walk down the aisle, escorted by his best friend. Escorted by the man that he loves.

He has to exercise a good amount of self-control to not frown.

Sicheng's eyes are a little swollen around the edges like he just finished crying, and his best man Nakamoto Yuta looks no different. 

Renjun is not cruel. He cannot find it in himself to stay indifferent to the pain that the men some feet away from him happen to be feeling. He cannot find it in himself to be as happy as he was about this wedding a week ago, because a week ago he hadn't known that he would be tearing a loving couple apart.

Heart-breaking as it may be, it is what it is.

He is here now, sure, and he will marry Sicheng, but would that change the truth? Would that belie that no matter what his intentions are or not, he is, at the end of the day, the reason why two people who love each other so much, will not be together anymore?

When Yuta gives Sicheng's hand in Renjun's and steps back away to stand by his side, Renjun tries not to feel hurt by the pain in his betrothed's disconnected gaze.

Sicheng's hand is cold in his — not sweaty but icy — a stark contrast against Renjun's warm one. Renjun focuses his attention to that instead of the emotional turmoil that keeps dragging his attention away from the present events.

He gulps over the emotions lodged in his throat as the officiant begins her greetings.

His mind is blissfully blank as he repeats the traditional vows after the officiant just as they had rehearsed a day prior, and when he sneaks a glance up at Sicheng, the man seems to be on autopilot, doing the same thing as him.

_"To have and to hold from this day onward."_

_"For better or for worse."_

_"For richer or for poorer."_

_"In sickness and in health."_

Renjun barely computes breezing through the vows, only repeating what the officiant says word for word and keeping a smile on his face for the world to see.

The ring exchange slips by his fingers much like rainwater through cracks. It was something he had always looked forward to, growing up. Watching it in movies, people laughing and crying and kissing their spouses. Gathering them in their arms and spinning them, dipping them, and pulling them right back up to kiss them again.

He knows that all of that looks good only on a screen. That reality does not have to imitate fiction, at all. But he supposes he really is a hopeless romantic when it comes to that.

It's satisfying to face the truth, even when the truth is not something that makes you happy.

He unfocuses his gaze when they exchange rings. Refuses to be part of that moment just as much as Sicheng does — come on, Renjun is not daft, he can see without Sicheng ever having to make a show of it — and he refuses to let himself be hurt like this.

It hurts to have his hopes be let down like this, but he supposes whatever happens, happens for the best.

He pastes a smile on his face and can only hope that it doesn't look fake.

The media is here which is inevitable, really, especially for people who have a social standing like his family does — top of the elites, high up in the upper class, old money and all of that — if royalty was still a thing, Renjun supposes that his family would somewhat be close to it.

A person such as himself would know better than to let conflict show at a place where it could be captured and made an issue out of.

Their world's fascination with corporate 'celebrities' knows few bounds.

And as Renjun may be one, he knows better than to give the media something to make a mountain out of a molehill on.

Which is why he must smile through the hurt.

And he does.

When the words _You may kiss your husband_ resonate in the space between him and Sicheng, he isn't sure who moves first. All he knows is that there are photographers having stationed themselves at different spots close to the altar to capture a glimpse of something— anything— that could be considered even remotely controversial because even in celebration, when have people ever not tried to find causes for conflict?

And what is the media if not the extension of some part of people's nosiness?

Corporate celebrity or not, celebrity in general or not, people always want to know what goes on with other people's lives — finding themselves unable to leave it be.

He tries to look at Sicheng with all the love that he can muster in his gaze — which is perhaps the easiest thing he's had to do, today. The easiest, because whether anyone likes it or not, all his life he has been waiting for this day.

_Your loved one is waiting for you._

But now that he _is_ here, he isn't very sure after all, about what part of it is true.

He has to tiptoe the slightest bit to reach his now husband's lips, and in any other case this would have been sweet, but it isn't. This _isn't_ another situation, and this is _not_ sweet.

Renjun and Sicheng are married and Sicheng is in love with someone else.

Renjun wants to love him, to help him leave this place with the man he loves, to cry because this is not what he wanted — not to rip apart someone's love at its seams, never to make people suffer, but he _is_ here. He did not want to cause anyone any grief, but he _is_ doing it regardless of how much he never intended to.

How can he take this back?

How can he take this back without sullying his family's name?

_Renjun Huang Walks Away From Altar._

It may read as the one of the spiciest bits of gossip that could come from their side of the society, but it would bring his family nothing but shame. The consequences would be far worse for Sicheng's family because truth be told the upper class is like a council meeting with vultures, one wrong move and you're giving yourself to be pecked upon, toyed with, and eventually being torn apart and consumed by the insatiable greed of the rich and powerful.

In the end, that is what it comes down to, whether you're a part of the elites themselves, or not.

Isn't that why Sicheng is here, anyway?

Marrying him though he'd probably rather just die than be with someone who is not the man by his side, his best man, Nakamoto Yuta?

As Sicheng leans in to meet him halfway for the customary kiss, Renjun wonders how long will familial responsibility and the so-called family name will keep making children pay the price for their parents' mistakes.

He hates it.

Renjun blinks and finds himself seated for the wedding speeches, and holds his breath as Yuta walks up to the mic. He wants to hear what the other man has to say, at the same time he hopes that the man at the mic won't say anything that would make things go south — for the ceremony, as well as for the people involved.

He supposes he hasn't a lot to worry about on that regard because as far as his knowledge goes, Nakamoto Yuta is an upper class elite himself and would not do something that would cause a scene and hence bring unwanted and untimely attention to their family — much more than on themselves as individuals — so he tries to relax himself a little bit and pay attention to the man in front.

 _Alas,_ a thought swirls slow in the back of his mind, _it all comes back to familial ties in the end, doesn't it?_ No matter who does what, it all apparently reflects their nurture over nature, and individuality ceases to exist in a society built on crisp money, blood of the poor, and deceit.

 _"Now, what shall I tell you about my Winwinnie?"_

Throughout his best man's speech Yuta sounds like a fond friend — a _devoted_ best friend, which of course, he is, but Renjun marvels at how effortlessly he holds his emotions back from permeating through his voice.

 _You're in love with each other._ He wants to tell Yuta.

Wants to tell him that he knows. No matter how hard they try to keep it a secret, he knows how the two of them feel about each other. 

Wants to tell him that _I know you wanted to have a life together because I see the way you look at each other._

Wants to tell Yuta that _I see the ring you wear because he had to put the exact same one on me._ To tell him that _If there was any way I could know before, I never would have done this to you._

He doesn't say a word.

How could he, and what purpose would it serve?

Yuta is just as charming as Renjun had thought he would be and he can see why it would be easy to love him. As Yuta makes his way through the speech, the guests cheer and applaud and Renjun wants to scoff because there is no way his relatives would act like this. The Huang elders besides his mother are to put it quite frankly, a stuck up bunch of people and would rather choke in public than be caught laughing.

He wonders if these people are too drunk, acting for the media, or are aware of how the richest person attending the ceremony in terms of inheritance is the one standing on stage and pretending like his heart isn't broken beyond repair.

He sighs quietly and unnoticeably — he's quite mastered the art of being stealthy with his physical expressions especially in the presence of the media — and his camera senses tingle, alert. He sneaks a quick glance at his left and there is someone pointing their phone camera at them, probably trying to take a photo of the so-called _happy couple_ except there is nothing happy about them or their union.

Noticing the camera pointed in their direction, Renjun decides to give them a show that they're looking for — a show that would help propagate the narrative of them being happy with this wedding.

Anything for the image.

Anything to protect and preserve their reputation.

He softly slides his hand closer to where Sicheng's lay on the table, acting like he wants to hold his hand but is too shy to do it, hoping that Sicheng gets the message instead of misunderstanding his intentions.

Sicheng does not react, and Renjun cannot pinpoint whether he's disappointed or grateful.

He tunes everyone out, despite how hard it is for him to do it with how strong alpha senses can be.

When all the lengthy speeches are finished, the guests have fed, have shaken a leg, and it's time for them to leave, all of them come congratulate the two of them once again, give them their blessings, and be off on their way.

When all of the reporters have been escorted out and sent away, and the only guests present around them are immediate families and close friends, Renjun takes a break and leaves to the groom's hut to freshen himself up.

He splashes his face with water a couple of times, then pats it dry with the paper towels from the ornate, wooden box by the wall. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and takes some deep breaths, pushing them out a little loudly through his mouth.

"It is what it is, Renjun." He murmurs, attempting to reassure himself, unsure of how much it is working. "It is what it is."

He takes a minute to gather his surprisingly rather disheveled self and takes some more deep inhales before walking back out under the purple-navy sky.

The venue around them had already lit up in tiny little lanterns and white fairy lights, but when Renjun reaches where the people are he pauses in his tracks and stares.

Sicheng and Yuta, slow dancing in a corner, and while they put up the act very well, Renjun ponders how many people did the two of them end up fooling today.

Is it just him or are they really so good at acting that nobody sees?

Renjun breathes out, tired and feeling like he could sleep well into next week, and heads towards that part of the seating area where he sees his people, settling down into some of the chairs. Yangyang pours him some champagne, and Renjun thanks him before taking a careful sip.

His cousin Xuxi, the big puppy, grins at him. "How are you feeling, little Huang?" 

Renjun chuckles when he hears the question because he's been asked the same thing so many times today, over and over again, with varying degrees of concerned voices — as if he's a baby who cannot take care of his emotional well-being — that he’s had the thought of simply snapping back at the next person who would ask.

The only reason why he chooses not to do that is because it's Xuxi. Their pure-hearted Xuxi. Their big Huang. Renjun likes to think of his cousin brother as Clifford The Big Red Dog. He got so big because of how loved he is, you know? He gulps the sip in his mouth that has now gone warm (and feels a little gross as a result) and smiles at his cousin.

“I’m…” He hums, trying to think of an appropriate way to word it. Xuxi is someone whom Renjun can and will trust with his life, so he rarely hides things from him, if at all, that is to say. Not that Renjun would hide something from the people he cares about, anyway. 

Honesty is the best policy, or so they were taught in school, weren’t they?

“I’m doing as good as anyone can given the circumstances, ge.” He murmurs, trying to avoid looking at the other side of the venue where his now husband is, probably still slow-dancing with the man that he loves.

Yukhei’s palm on his knee is a warm gesture of comfort.

Renjun wants to sulk just a little bit because be as it may, he really was looking forward to this union. He’d never had the thought of falling in love with someone during his teenage, mostly because he was home-schooled, and he is not the social butterfly kind of person. He is, at the end of the day, a private person, who happens to value his existing relationships far too much to think about new ones.

All throughout his childhood, he was told that his loved one is waiting for him. He'd never asked who it was. He was never told in explicit terms about why this person was waiting for him. As he had grown up, reading, studying, learning about the world around him, he’d supposed that his mother had meant a partner that he’d find eventually.

When he’d found out about Sicheng’s existence last week, just out of the blue, he had a lot of expectations, because no matter what, at the end of the day, he is only a twenty-one year old boy who’s done nothing besides labour, and worked his hardest to be the best out there. 

At twenty-one years old, he’s the acting CEO for their company who works twelve hours a day every day to make sure that WGU helps bring positive change to people’s lives while still ruling at the top. At twenty-one years old, he is the richest man in Asia under the age of twenty-five. At twenty-one years old, he’s a boy who has never had the chance to live a normal teenager’s life.

He is halted from getting too deep in his head about this — thankfully — because of Yin running up to him and hugging his legs.

“Junjun!” The two-year-old breaks out into the biggest and cutest grin that Renjun has seen a child have, and he decides that this is the highlight of his day, today.

“Hello, my princess!” He greets the little girl who peers up at him with the biggest, shiniest doe eyes, then sweeps her into his arms and sits her down on his lap. “What’s up?” He asks her, bouncing his knees gently.

“Junjun. Yinyin. Dance.” She asks with the prettiest little smile, and how could Renjun ever dream of denying the little angel what she wants? He looks at Xuxi for his permission and finds him looking back at his daughter with the most endeared gaze that he has ever seen on a person.

“Ge?” He calls out to his cousin softly, making the elder jerk the slightest bit in surprise. “May I take Yinyin with me?”

Yukhei nods, silent and smiling, and Yin cheers happily, giving her father a flying kiss before Renjun lifts her up in his arms and takes her to the middle of the dancing area. The orchestra is long gone so there is no source for some music, and though Yin is on the less tantrum-throwing side, Renjun still wants her to be happy.

It is the first wedding that she has ever attended in her life, after all, and no matter how the people involved in it feel about it, she should not have to be bothered with the problems of adults. So Renjun begins humming a familiar tune, and follows after the steps of the wedding waltz he had taken lessons for, nevertheless.

So what if he doesn't remember his wedding dance with his husband?

He’ll think of this dance with an angel in his arms.

~

The first few weeks of their married life are — in Sicheng’s very humble opinion — his own personal hell.

He does not want to be here.

Away from his home, away from the life that he had made for himself in Seoul, away from his friends, away from Yuta — stuck with someone for God only knows how long until one of them breaks and gives up on this stupid shit.

He hates it.

This is the life that he had imagined having with Yuta — he had proposed to him for Heaven’s sake! and now to have to live it with someone else — someone whose existence Sicheng wasn’t even aware of a week before they got married — how is he supposed to be okay with this?

And Renjun is kind.

The boy is very kind.

Even though he is so infatuated with the idea of being married to him — or simply to the idea of being married, of having someone for himself — denying his kindness and the compassion that he had shown Sicheng over the last couple of months is something Sicheng had never seen coming. That does not mean that he doesn’t appreciate it.

Sure, he has his doubts still — prevention is always better than cure, after all — that maybe Renjun might be kind to him just because he is a bit foolishly enamoured with the idea of Sicheng — or a significant other — more than the person Sicheng is himself, but he wants to give the younger a benefit of that same doubt.

Sicheng is lonely here, and alone, and has no one that he can rely on for now — all of his friends are back in Seoul — Yuta, Taeil, Jungwoo. And even though Taeil and Jungwoo had been Yuta’s friends first, they’d never made Sicheng feel like he wasn’t a part of their own. The only friend he even remembers having anymore is Kun, but even Kun is back in Chicago and the last time that he had talked to him he had enough problems with his own arranged marriage.

But even as that point remains, Sicheng really wants to give the younger a chance at friendship.

The problem here is that he just doesn’t feel ready to open his heart so soon, to _anyone,_ even for friendship because no matter what it _will_ be a new person to try and find a connection with — a new person to get used to, a new person to get to know, and what if one of them doesn’t like the other person after they get to know them, to even want to be their friend?

What happens then?

Where do they go beyond that?

He knows that he’s being a little childish at best because the two of them are old enough to resolve their differences if it is possible to, and respect each other if the other truly deserves it — even though Renjun is some part of the reason why Sicheng can’t be with the man that he loves, he won’t say that Renjun has directly ever done anything yet to not deserve his respect, his own ire at the day of their wedding notwithstanding — so what could be so bad about giving in?

The first night of their wedding Renjun had apologised to him for making him uncomfortable at the ceremony with his displays of affection. Sicheng can clearly hear the mortification in his voice even now, and he isn’t a bad judge of character, he never has been, it _is_ one of the things about himself that he is rather proud of — and Renjun is not a bad person. He knows that.

He just doesn’t want anyone to get more hurt by this than they have already.

He would rather be stubborn and spare both his and the younger’s feelings than give the boy any hope only to crush those without meaning to.

Alas, Renjun is just a twenty-two year old boy.

He is too young to have to deal with the stress that comes with marriage — especially an arranged one — between an influential family like his and a formerly-upper-class family like Sicheng’s own. He’s too young to have to deal with having to make a marriage work for as long as possible — someone his age should be more worried about something like… _dating(?),_ Sicheng supposes. Or maybe about what movie to watch next, or whether they should prioritise going out with their friends or the assignment due at midnight.

_Not this._

He does not know how he is going to bring it up, either, after constantly refusing to accept Renjun’s hand of friendship, but he wants to stop being stubborn because his adamance does nothing much besides make them feel lonelier. Maybe if they were friends, things really could be better.

And when has Renjun shown him anything but kindness?

Would it really be so bad if Sicheng did say yes to wanting to be his friend?

He doesn’t think so — at least, not any more.

He does not notice when the front door opens, but the sound of the door closing startles him a little. He looks at Renjun who is finally back from work, and then looks at the time on his laptop screen. 11:38 p.m. That is not healthy, is it? He wonders, especially when Renjun is usually gone by seven in the morning — but who is Sicheng to question it if not the pot calling the kettle black?

He wants things to not be awkward for them anymore.

If the two of them must live under the same roof, then they might as well live in harmony — at ease.

As Renjun gets closer to where he is — sitting on one of the dining table chairs with his work laid out at front and a late night snack by his side — Sicheng makes up his mind to take the first step for once, no matter how small.

“Welcome back.” He says to Renjun, who freezes mid-step and immediately gets in a defensive position, and Sicheng has to keep his laugh in. _Am I really that bad that even hearing my voice is startling?_

The younger flushes head-to-toe when he realises that he was almost ready to fight Sicheng and apologises, sheepish in his manner, before excusing himself to go to his room.

Sicheng feels nerves seize him all of a sudden, feeling like he won’t get another chance if he doesn’t do something _now,_ so before Renjun can leave, Sicheng clears his throat and blurts out, “There's some cake in the fridge, if you wanted a late-night snack!”

Renjun looks at him confused for some seconds, not getting the hint much to Sicheng’s frustration until he _finally_ smiles. Oh, he has a very sweet smile.

“Sure, gege. I’ll be back once I become a person again.” He says with a small laugh.

Sicheng smiles in confusion. “What are you now?”

“Just bones and back-pain.” Renjun makes finger-guns and Sicheng face-palms. The younger chuckles again before leaving to his room.

When he comes back ten minutes or so later, Sicheng is more than halfway through typing his report.

Sicheng concentrates on his typing because the sooner he finishes this report the lesser he can worry about it and give that bit of his attention to his experiments in the lab. Renjun takes a seat opposite to him, thoughtful enough to not want to disturb him while he works and digs into the cake when suddenly the younger’s phone makes an alert noise.

Renjun jumps, and so does Sicheng, and the younger softly apologises to him before checking his phone which the elder waves off with a smile. Sicheng wonders if he should be more concerned about how comfortable their interaction feels already, but he chooses not to because looking a gift horse in the mouth isn’t the brightest idea after all.

He focuses on typing while Renjun calls his friend — Yangyang, his name was, Sicheng remembers vaguely — and wishes him a happy birthday.

 _Almost there, Sicheng._ He thinks as he starts writing the conclusion of the report when something Renjun says on the line catches his attention.

“In the Hindi Language…” He says, “there is a word for ‘friend’ that means something close to ‘a person who carries your sadness with them as they walk alongside you.’ And I think that while sharing our happiness with someone is a very easy thing to do, having someone be there for us through the sad part of it all is something that not a lot of people get to experience. So, if we have someone like that, we should cherish them.”

 _Oh,_ isn’t that what Sicheng had wanted to say all along?

When Renjun finishes talking to his friend and keeps his phone aside, Sicheng is rereading the report to spot any errors in it, while being a champion multitasker and thinking of how he could broach the subject anyway.

 _Nike. Just do it._ A very Yuta like voice giggles in the back of his head, and for the first time it doesn’t bring him unbearable pain.

Sicheng takes a deep breath.

“Hey, do you still want to be...be friends?”

Renjun visibly lights up.

“I’d love to.”

~

Being on friendly terms with Sicheng is unexpectedly easy and fun.

The elder has a dry sense of humour which complements Renjun’s bad puns, and more often than not they’re just laughing at each other’s jokes, or each other’s absolute inability to make one. The Sicheng that he sees, is friends with, and lives with now is almost the Sicheng from his best man’s speech.

He is funny, he is kind, he is doting, and he gives as good as he gets.

A perk that comes with their friendship is that they talk to each other a lot now. Sure, it’s also because they’re both lonely, and living under the same roof which means that they don’t really have anyone else to talk to either way, but Renjun likes to believe that it is also because they want to be friends now. Because they want to make this relationship work—even if it means that they will stay just friends with each other for as long as possible in the foreseeable future.

 _Good things come to those who wait,_ Renjun remembers reading.

And good things do.

The apartment no longer reeks of discomfort anymore. Sicheng does not reek of heartbreak anymore and he _looks_ glad — if not happy — most of the time, and they’re friends. Renjun and Sicheng are friends and they talk now, and Sicheng is very calming to talk to.

Renjun feels like talking to Sicheng makes him see things clearer for himself as well.

He thinks back to last night when they were conversing about their lives before each other and how that had led to Sicheng talking about Yuta. Renjun had learned more about their relationship last night, and he’d felt fairly guilty for causing them to part. Just as Sicheng had gotten slightly sad, Renjun had tried to console him with some words of solace under the guise of advice.

 _“A person’s heart is like a cup, gege” He sighs, while the two of them clean up the kitchen after finishing dinner. Renjun scrubs the cup in his hand carefully, making sure that it doesn’t slip out of his hand and break_ — _and add to the list of things to be done. “If it’s filled with worries, naturally, it will run out of space for happiness. That’s why we’ll only be able to be happy if we pour away the sadness.”_

_“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sicheng says, and Renjun wonders if he is just hearing things or was it really a smile in Sicheng’s voice._

But that is the thing — _Sicheng gives as good as he gets._

Which is why Renjun is staring at a new package of his favourite scented candle on the kitchen counter, with a note left for him that reads: _Might have to stay back at the lab tonight. That being said (written?) I knew you wouldn’t remember that you’d forgotten to buy it._

Renjun smiles fondly because indeed, he had forgotten to buy it.

He’d burned through the last one in his stock of his favourite scented candles to the wick and he’d been so busy these past weeks with work that he hadn’t remembered to buy it at all. Seeing that Sicheng has not only remembered, but also bought it for him, serves as a gentle reminder of his kindness, and that he is in their friendship as much as Renjun is.

Renjun takes the candle and the note and goes back to his room, then folds the piece of paper and tucks it away in his wallet to look at it later and smile.

The forehead kissing begins sometime after the Candle Incident.

It is on one of the fairly rare days on which Renjun can afford to not go to the office. The day begins with him following his regular routine — getting up at five, meditating, working out, all of that jazz — and there really is nothing out of the ordinary for him to think too much about. Except you know, the Candle Incident, as he’s taken to calling it in his head.

Okay, sure, it isn’t really too big of a deal to think about all that much, statistically speaking, but numbers have nothing to do with his heart. He thinks back to their conversation again — the pink sitting high in Sicheng’s cheeks, the crimson tinting his beautiful pixie-ear, his downcast eyes, the shyness in his smile, the kindness in his voice — while he stirs pancake batter for breakfast.

Sicheng would like strawberry pancakes, wouldn’t he?

Renjun hopes so. He can do nothing but hope, thinking back to the occasions that Sicheng has — though rather modestly — let his soft spot for the fruit show. The twinkle in his eyes while buying strawberry ice-cream. The way he’d smiled when Renjun had brought him strawberries on his way back from work. How he’d blushed when Renjun had fed him the one he’d bitten into.

He thinks about the candle sitting on top of his bedside table. He thinks about Sicheng’s face when he comes for breakfast. Probabilities. Certainties. He knows that conventionally there are only two possible ways for Sicheng to react; he’ll appreciate it, grin and eat the food, or he won’t, and choose to politely let Renjun down, instead. 

He wonders which one it’ll be, and tries not to think too hard about the second option, given their history.

The pancakes smell like heaven by the time Renjun feels Sicheng walk into the dining area, which is followed by an aborted noise of shock on the taller man’s part. Renjun laughs under his breath before turning around and putting food on the kitchen island for his husband to dig into.

“Good morning, gege.”

“Mm, g’morning.” Sicheng murmurs as he takes a seat onto a barstool, and Renjun feels himself go mushy because the elder sounds sleepy, and very, very endearing.

Renjun pushes two distinct bottles and another can towards Sicheng who looks like he’s still trying to make sense of Renjun’s presence in their apartment and the kitchen until the alpha chuckles. “I had the day off so I figured I could make you some breakfast. Here’s some Nutella, maple syrup, and whipped cream, take what you like, gege.”

“Mhm, thank you, Junjun.” Sicheng murmurs as he rubs his eyebrow with his knuckles and God, Renjun feels his heart feel like it is going to give out because he is so, _so_ precious. He chuckles quietly because there isn’t much else that he can do when he feels so overcome with affection. He leans over the counter and brushes away the hair falling over his husband’s forehead, smiling when Sicheng looks up in surprise.

“What?”

“What?” Renjun teases back, laughing until Sicheng smiles, cloyingly sweet.

Now, it is a gorgeous sight, and Renjun would never, ever mind looking at it, except it doesn’t sit right with his instinct. Something’s wrong, and he can feel it, and it is proved when Sicheng speaks, unfazed and still with that saccharine grin lining his lips.

“Your pancakes are burning.”

Renjun will admit that the way he yelps and rushes back to the stove is one of his less graceful moments, and he would prefer to file it away with the things he’d rather not remember doing, or happening. But he finds out that Sicheng is pleased by it, turning his face the other way and snickering quietly into the back of his hand, so maybe a slip-up is worth it every now and then.

Renjun dumps the burnt pancakes into the trash and goes back to making some for himself, fully expecting Sicheng to have eaten and left by the time that he’s fixing himself a plate. But when he heads to the kitchen island, fully prepared to go and have his breakfast with a serving of crushed hopes on the side, it turns out that he won’t need to do so, because Sicheng is still here.

I mean, sure, he’s almost finished with his share of the food, but he’s eating slowly, and as much as Renjun would like to believe that the elder is doing it because he’s perhaps waiting for him, he knows that it is, quite possibly, much too far from the truth.

When he takes his food and heads towards the counter, he sneaks a glance at the clock placed on the wall of the living room. If Sicheng does not leave right away, he will probably be late, and Renjun does not want to be the cause behind it.

He isn't very sure about when his husband's classes start anyway because up until not very long ago they weren't on the friendliest terms with each other and they lived in their apartment like strangers passing each other on the street. Renjun prefers not to think back to that time, even though it hasn't been very long since things have changed for the better.

He tries not to think too hard about anything, at all. 

Things are still awkward to say the least.

When he sits down next to Sicheng and begins to eat, the elder swipes back and forth on the surface of his phone screen, furrowing his brows cutely, acting like there is something on his phone that puzzles him to the ends of the earth.

Renjun cannot discern how the man sitting beside him feels, because he can't see his face, can't look him in the eyes, can't smell him.

Renjun does not know how his husband feels, because more than a year after their wedding as it may be, he still does not know him. Well, he doubts Sicheng knows any better, either. He can only hope that things look up from now on.

“Gege, when does class start for you today?” He asks as he cuts into the pancakes that he has stacked up on his plate with a side of chocolate syrup. whipped cream, and chopped up strawberries. It looks appetizing, and while Renjun never worries about his culinary skills, he is a little antsy today because it _is_ his first time making something specially for Sicheng to eat.

He hopes that the elder liked it, while also trying not to hope too much because the elder is almost finished with his breakfast and hasn’t said a word about the taste yet.

“Hmm? They start in a while.” He murmurs, looking at his wrist watch. Renjun feels like he hears some sort of hesitance in his husband’s voice but he does not know what to make of it, so he hums out a response and focuses on the food in his plate. 

Well, even if Sicheng says nothing about the food, Renjun will give it to himself. This is an amazing breakfast, and he’s glad he finally had the time to make something sweet after what feels like a long time of not giving into his sweet tooth of his own volition.

Renjun eats his breakfast at a normal speed, he guesses, and he takes Sicheng’s plate with him as he heads back inside the kitchen to load them into the dishwasher once he’s finished eating. On his way back he notices that Sicheng is still here, hovering purposelessly near the counter. He walks up to him, but remains on his side of the kitchen.

“Gege,” He murmurs, a little cautious, but more concerned for the elder. “Are you feeling fine? Is everything alright?” Is Sicheng feeling well?

Sicheng nods carefully, as if he heard the question Renjun never asked.

“I’m uh… I’m gonna leave now.” He says, and looks at Renjun expectantly. Expecting what, Renjun isn’t sure.

Then he realises what and almost smacks his forehead.

“I’ll come walk you to the door.” He chuckles, and Sicheng looks at him rather impassively, which makes him a little bit nervous. _This is what he wants, right, for me to accompany him to the door?_ Renjun asks himself the question while his feet follow after his husband's, almost on autopilot.

When he’s at the door, Sicheng pauses, and so does Renjun to avoid bumping into him. They’re friends now, or if not friends, fully, then at least on friendly terms with each other and that is making a lot of progress in Renjun’s very humble opinion; except it still feels like they’re strangers, who are only now beginning to get used to each other’s presence and have agreed to be on more familiar terms since they share a living space.

_Who am I kidding? We're very good friends._

He knows that the rate at which they’re making progress in their relationship is slow at best, but at the same time, at least it’s progress, so he tries his best not to complain.

Now if only they could both move on and be at the stage where they did not feel like a stranger in their own home.

Because whether they like it or not, _this is home now._

“Renjun,” Sicheng’s voice is low, soft, and still manages to hold and bring back Renjun’s attention onto him with just a word.

Renjun hums and looks at him curiously, ushering him to go on.

“Thank you for making me food, it was delicious.” He says, praising him with a sincere smile. Renjun feels his heart fill with gratitude.

“Please don’t mention it, gege.” He smiles up at his husband brightly, and has no idea that Sicheng would do what he does next.

He hugs him, and really, it’s more of a casual bro-hug than anything but Renjun still feels a wave of comfort settle inside his chest, like wiggling your toes as you snuggle up into your bed after a long, cold day out in the world, under warm, thick covers tucked up to your chin, and it feels like it really does not get any better than this — except, in Renjun’s case right now, it does. 

It does get better than this. Much, much better.

Sicheng presses his lips to Renjun’s temple, a gentle little flutter of a touch and pulls away soon after that, all but rushing out the apartment in haste. Renjun stands at the doorframe shell-shocked and stock-still from what just happened — _did it really just happen or was that just my lonely brain projecting onto him?_ he questions his perception of reality, although briefly — before he grazes a tentative touch at the skin where Sicheng had just pressed his lips onto.

He simply shrugs to himself and closes the door, then walks back towards the kitchen, shaking his head all throughout the way.

If he can’t stop blushing while he tidies the area, well, that is his problem and his problem alone.

Kisses become a part of their routine after that, as does an easier, closer friendship.

When they see each other on the weekends, finally having some time off of work in Renjun’s case, or research in Sicheng’s, they try to make the most of it. Some days, they stay in and have a movie night, order in loads of take-out to keep them going throughout a marathon. Some days they’re too tired to even move a muscle so they get some food, and spend the day in their beds, not making it out of their rooms, barely seeing each other’s faces, but they text each other back. It might not make up for it, though it still is a gesture that they appreciate. 

On some of the fairly rare days that they actually have both — the time, and the will power — to go out, they do, and it’s nothing short of lovely. However, as much as Renjun loves their little outings, there is something a little fundamentally disconcerting about these getaways that he is always a little perplexed by.

He finds it funny too, because it isn’t that deep.

Him and Sicheng are friends, and friends go out all the time, it’s natural if he thinks about it like that. Then reality gives him a gentle, cruel reminder, that the man that he goes out with, on dinner dates-that-are-not-dates, to pet shelters to feed rescued animals, to bowling alleys with and has the time of his life with, is not just his friend. That, _he is your husband._

As friendly as they may be with each other now, after almost one whole year of struggling to find common ground, and trying to to reach out to the other and receiving a cold shoulder, it does less to belie the cold-hard signed-on fact that at the end of the day, Renjun and Sicheng _are_ married.

So yeah, it is a little… _complicated._ A laugh escapes him and out into the real world when he reconsiders the term.

So this is what it means when people say _It’s complicated?_

It’s cold, of course it is. It’s winter, and Renjun would not be able to tell you why or when he agreed to go ice-skating with Sicheng. His brain is not helpful, either. All he remembers is Sicheng asking him if he’d want to go ice-skating today now that they finally have an entire day to themselves, him having no thoughts and his head empty until he had answered him, Very Cheerfully, with a _Sure, gege, sounds like a lot of fun!_

Overcome by the thrill of doing something that he has always wanted to do, he’d forgotten a trivially pivotal detail that possesses the power to make or break their little trip.

_I do not know how to ice-skate._

Renjun repeats it inside his head again and again, hoping it loses its meaning and somehow becomes a lie.

It won’t happen, sure, because one, people do not learn something simply by staring at it as if through osmosis. And two, as badly as he wishes it, Renjun still does not have the superpower of probability manipulation, but at least he can dream. 

So he guesses that this is it.

He’s going to fall on his ass, break something, land in the hospital, and if he’s unlucky enough, then someone will have it on tape and post it on their social media.

Surprisingly enough, none of that happens and ice-skating turns out to be one of the most enjoyable things that Renjun has ever tried doing in his life. He’s bad at it first like any inexperienced person is, but that’s where he is different. He learns _fast._ And he rarely forgets. So twenty minutes of watching, learning, and trying later, he makes his first round of the rink slowly, a little wobbly on his feet but Sicheng is there to help him.

And Renjun would pretend to be bad at this for a while longer if that means that he gets to hold Sicheng’s hands and have him gently and carefully guide him on the ice, but fooling the elder is next to impossible. And when Sicheng notices that Renjun has gotten the hang of it, he skates from him, turns around, and calls out to him with the happiest, biggest grin that Renjun has ever seen on him.

How can Renjun say no to that?

So he follows after Sicheng and the next couple of hours are spent with them skating around on the ice, spinning in circles, playing tag, and eventually they end up being adopted by a group of younger children who have the best time laughing and skating around as Renjun and Sicheng try to catch them.

When they get back home from the centre, Renjun is so, so exhausted he feels like he could sleep for a good forty hours — which he is very well aware is a mild coma, but he couldn’t be bothered about semantics — but even as his body refuses to cooperate, fatigue having seeped in through every bone and tissue — he still thinks that he wouldn’t change it for anything else.

So maybe these _dates that are not really dates_ aren't so terrible, after all, huh?

The last thing Renjun feels is himself smiling at that thought before he goes under.

Their now frequent dates change things for the better, gently steering the direction of their relationship towards something more.

It is a visible change too, as Renjun notices himself, and gets told, the night of their first wedding anniversary. They hold a small, private, invitations-only event limited only to the members of the Huang and Dong families on Renjun’s request — and thankfully it is not contested. Youngest in age as he may be, he is still the one with the most power in the family.

Renjun’s favourite cousins — Xuxi and Guanheng — show up for which he is very happy and grateful, and he takes the chance to introduce and familiarise his favourite people with each other. Yin and Sicheng take to each other like magnets with opposing polarities, and the child spends the rest of her evening in Sicheng’s arms.

When Renjun asks his husband if he wants to give Yin to him or back to Xuxi, he refuses, baby-talking the little angel in his arms and waving Renjun’s worries off with a bright, beautiful smile.

Renjun feels his chest fill up with warmth.

Another interesting development that he notices during the course of the evening is that Guanheng, Yangyang, and Dejun — Sicheng’s younger brother — seem to be getting, for a lack of a better word, _cozy_ with each other. 

When he gets the chance to, he corners his cousin, and his best friend to ask them what their intentions are and warn them off if need be, but all he gets in reply is a lot of blushing and side-eyeing each other so Renjun apologises and skedaddles before he makes things any more awkward for the rest of them.

The night ends with everyone giving them their blessings and best wishes once again, cooing loudly when Sicheng wraps his arm around Renjun’s shoulder and presses a kiss somewhere between his temple and the top of his ear. Renjun holds his hands and squeezes it, hoping to convey his affection without displaying it in front of all these people.

Sicheng smiles at him with eyes that shine full of joy, and _hope._

Renjun wants him to always look like that.

He promises himself to do anything to preserve that happiness.

His mother comes to his cabin in the office the next day, and tears up as she tells him how proud she is of the two of them. Renjun smiles at her and wipes her tears, because at that moment in time that is all he can do.

Which brings him to the present and how their synergy has evolved into something more… earnest. Something far _tender_ than it used to be _._

For one, they’ve moved from watching movies in the living room to watching them in bed. Friday and Saturday evenings are spent watching web-series, dramas, and movies, lately, after the two of them have fixed dinner from whatever there is in the pantry.

Today, it is their turn to watch whatever they will, in Sicheng’s bed, and Renjun shows up in a comfortable pair of night clothes. When he knocks on Sicheng’s door, he registers the smell of bleach, faint as if it’s coming from inside the room, and frowns in concern as the elder’s honeyed voice calls him in.

Renjun walks in and closes the door behind himself, and the sight that greets him is something that has gotten used to in the past few months.

Sicheng is sitting in his bed wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts — undoubtedly, Renjun doesn’t need too see it to know — swathed in a cocoon of blankets, leaning with his back resting on a ridiculous heap of the softest pillows ever and his laptop perched on his lap. 

He greets his husband with a smile and receives one in return, and Renjun doesn’t fail to notice that it doesn’t reach the other man’s eyes.

Renjun gets in bed next to Sicheng — something oddly easy, predictable, and intimate about this now that they’ve ingrained this little activity into their lives. Sicheng greets him softly, and even though Renjun knows that there’s something bothering his husband, he can still hear the smile in the elder’s voice.

They watch a romantic drama on Sicheng’s suggestion, which Renjun agrees to, more than happy to do so. Though Renjun feels Sicheng’s state of distress — fidgety, and insecure — he decides not to point it out just yet. By the time the movie ends, the two of them are cosy, snuggled up to each other, and for once Renjun does not question how he feels, letting the feeling wash over him.

He has a crush on Sicheng.

It may be funny to some, to hear him say that he has a crush on his husband — the man he has been married to for well over a year now — but it is the truth.

Things have changed a lot, and Renjun cannot complain. When they’d first gotten married, Renjun was infatuated with the idea of having someone in his life, of having someone to hopefully love in the future, and be loved by. 

The circumstances they were wedded under were hopeless and undesirable — and had smacked Renjun’s rose-coloured glasses off of his face for good. So, over the year and half that the two of them have spent as people legally bound to each other, cohabiting and slowly working on their dynamic with and feelings for each other have also helped Renjun draw a clear line between his idealised version of a relationship, and a functional one.

To him, it’s not just a marriage on paper anymore.

To him, the man whose chest he's laying his head on, is now his best friend. He is now a person Renjun wouldn’t mind sharing the rest of his life with. He is a person Renjun would be _happy_ sharing the rest of his life with. So maybe Sicheng hasn’t caught up to his feelings yet, maybe he’s going to take longer, Renjun will hold on for the elder to be on the same page as him because no matter what, at the end of the day, good things come to those who wait.

When Sicheng shuts his laptop and keeps it away, Renjun sits back and wonders if he should leave just yet. He hasn’t forgotten that this room did smell the slightest bit of unease when he had come in, and though the smell can be covered up with a generous amount of room freshener, sure, but he’d like to believe that he’s more intuitive than that.

“Gege, you okay?” He asks Sicheng who looks so sad, _feels_ so sad, Renjun feels himself ache with him. His crush aside, he really has come to appreciate the elder so much in his life, and he is nothing if not attached to him, so to see him hurt like this for a reason Renjun does not know, it doesn’t sit well with him.

Sicheng does not reply verbally, only sighs and nuzzles into the top of Renjun’s head.

Renjun feels his heart flutter despite the situation and curses himself for having such pathetic self-control, but could you blame him? He is simply a boy with a crush.

“Gege,” He gathers his courage to ask Sicheng the question, hoping that the elder does not take it the wrong way. He knows that he wouldn’t, but Renjun is sceptical nevertheless, wondering if taking the risk is even worth taking it. _You won’t know if you won’t try,_ he hears in his mind — a voice much like his mother’s — and takes the little leap of faith. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

When Sicheng remains silent for the first few moments, Renjun thinks that he has made a mistake.

He is well on his way to Panic-Town fuelled by insecurities and a sudden absence of confidence when his worries are laid to rest, by Sicheng nodding so timidly, Renjun would have missed it if he weren’t acutely aware of his every move. He still waits for his husband to be fully certain, to take his time and make sure that he won’t regret letting him stay, because when it comes down to it, what is the logic in him staying if Sicheng would end up regretting it?

None. So Renjun asks again, but this time, he takes the burden off of Sicheng’s hands.

“Gege, may I stay?”

_Better safe than sorry._

Sicheng pulls away from him — gentle in his motion — and looks at him for some long, tense moments. Appraising, scrutinising, and there is something so charged about the way that Sicheng looks at him that it makes Renjun feel like his skin has caught on fire.

“Do you _want_ to stay?”

The question comes in a murmur and Renjun hears it clearly still. Sicheng sounds dejected and Renjun has no clue why it is so. All that he knows right now is that he _wants_ to be here for Sicheng. He wants to be here for him as a friend, if nothing more.

It is so easy for him to say yes.

So he does.

The look in Sicheng’s eyes is a blend of gratitude and despair, and Renjun can only smile at him, hoping that he can stay and give him some comfort. He has a hard time trying to understand why his husband’s scent is so saturated with sadness, but he decides not to question it if the elder won’t tell him on his own.

Renjun sits with him, feeling a little awkward because he isn’t the best person when it comes to comforting someone — especially through words, and he’d really not put his foot in his mouth the moment he opens it, so he keeps mum, and lends his shoulder to Sicheng who leans into it immediately, hoping that his company is enough.

As it turns out, some minutes later, it is.

At least it feels like it, because Sicheng does not talk. He does not utter a word so Renjun doesn’t either, trying to relax his mind instead. How long has it been since he has felt the warmth of someone close to him? It has been a long time. He hasn’t had the chance to cuddle with his best friend in a while, too. 

At least not after he got married, he hasn’t.

He misses his best friend. He misses having his favourite person whom he could talk to anything about without fearing to be judged. Without having to walk on eggshells around. As easy as things may be for himself and Sicheng right now, being friends and cuddling with his husband whom he has a crush on is not the same as cuddling with his best friend who has seen the best and worst parts of him ever since they were in kindergarten — or probably even younger.

Sicheng is thinking of something and he is thinking very hard — Renjun doesn’t know what it is, and he isn’t sure if he wants to — given how much it has disturbed the elder.

But he feels so sad that even though beta scent is something mellow, Renjun can smell the melancholy note staining Sicheng’s own, easily.

He wants to take it away. He wants to take away whatever is making the elder sad.

_Let me help you, please._

But, he cannot do anything to help Sicheng if Sicheng won’t let him. He could want to make him feel okay, all he wants, but his wish is inconsequential if Sicheng won’t ask for his aid. The only thing that Renjun can do right now is sit here, smell the discomfort in the air, and hope, wish, _pray_ that Sicheng asks for help.

_You don’t have to go through it alone, gege. I’m here for you. I know that asking for help can be very nerve-wracking and not something that you’re used to doing, but it is never a bad thing. It hurts to see someone you care for hurt alone. Let me share the weight of whatever is bringing you down._

He holds Sicheng’s hand in his own, and looks at the difference in the sizes of their palms. His chest fills up with a feeling that he cannot quite put his finger on. Sicheng’s hand is bigger than his, too, because of course it is. Renjun knows that he wants to hold his hand forever, if Sicheng would allow him.

“Could I ask something of you?” When Sicheng speaks, his voice is soft. He smells less like sadness now, and that puts Renjun’s instincts at ease.

“Anything.” The speed of his reply should be embarrassing, and Renjun only hopes that Sicheng would let him live it down.

The elder goes quiet for some more moments, and Renjun stews in his maudlin thoughts.

“Please don’t make promises you won’t be able to keep, once you learn of what I’m going to ask.”

Renjun intertwines his fingers with Sicheng’s as the elder tries to pull them away.

“And what are you asking?” He hopes he sounds as calm as he thinks he does.

Sicheng freezes, though only momentarily, and Renjun watches him carefully.

The elder gulps, his breaths slow, and the sounds echoes in Renjun’s ears — amplified senses that come with being an alpha — both a boon and a bane. He breathes slowly, patiently, as Sicheng takes his time to make his mind up about what he wants and if he wants to ask him for it or not. He brings their joint hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the pads of Sicheng’s fingers.

His mind wants to wander, to think more and think about how pretty the slope of his husband’s nose is, how kiss-worthy his lips look like, how much Renjun would like to be kissed— but he holds all those thoughts back for now.

“Anything I ask?” He asks once, again, and Renjun does not fail to notice how he sounds doubtful. As if there is anything in this world that he would deny him.

“ _Anything_ you ask.” Renjun promises.

“Could you…” Sicheng mumbles, and Renjun inches closer to him to not miss anything he says. He wouldn’t miss it either way, because he already is sitting so close to him, almost in his lap, or the other way around, and he just wants to make him feel okay. “Could you please touch me?”

Oh.

_Oh._

This is not what he had expected, but it is nothing unwelcome.

However, it is his turn to blush. He feels it crawl slowly from the tips of his feet towards his face and though he would never admit it, an innocent request from Sicheng makes him break out into a full body blush. He is more than glad that he’s mostly covered.

He nods, finding it hard to speak, but Sicheng makes no move and Renjun with his heart swelling with warmth and affection and butterflies, whispers, _“Yes.”_

Immediately the stench of bleach begins to subside.

Sicheng shuffles close to him in the mass of blankets and pillows and wraps his arms around his middle, burying his face in Renjun’s chest. Renjun does the same, readjusting so that he’s kneeling—but not really—seated halfway in Sicheng’s lap, closing his arms around his shoulders and resting his chin on top of his husband’s head… It’s like a dam breaks, and something shifts.

Sicheng takes a deep breath and nuzzles closer to his chest as if wanting to become a part of him, and Renjun pulls him closer— _God,_ he’d want him to. Renjun cannot think a lot at the present moment anyway but when Sicheng pulls him closer down on his lap and runs his nose along his clavicle, he truly does want to melt into a puddle—pass out—and kiss him—all at once.

Renjun tries to clear his thoughts—tries to stop himself from wanting, but all he can think of right now is _wantwantwant_ and Sicheng’s lips are on his neck—his breath is cool where Renjun’s neck is warm with the remnants of his blush—and it’s so fucking hard to breathe because this feels like a cruel dream. Like he’s going to wake up any moment now—gasping for air—to a reality that is anything but this.

He is afraid he is going to wake up alone, and worst of it all— _lonely._

He isn’t sure who moves first or when it happens at all, but one moment he is bestride Sicheng’s thighs and the next thing he knows is his lips on his husband’s throat, kissing kissing kissing their way up, seeking the scent gland right by his jugular, the small bundle of nerves that Renjun knows would smell like all the things he likes and loves and the inside of his mind is a broken tape-recorder looping _needneedneed._

As if there is any semblance of a gap left between their bodies that Sicheng doesn’t like, his wraps his arm around the small of Renjun’s back and pulls him closer—like trying to fuse themselves into a unified whole—and Renjun’s hearts skips a beat or ten, because under his lips Sicheng’s heartbeat is far more honest than his mouth ever will be.

And he does not know how or why but he feels that this is something that will happen again. And again and again and again. He hates that he yearns like this—so desperate to love and be loved—that he’d lose all rationality in the face of a chance to feel cherished for once in his life. But he _is_ lonely, and so is Sicheng. And they’re _married._ Renjun wants to love him, and he wants to be loved, and this is so, so new to him.

When has he ever felt like this before?

When has he been touched with this intensity—just touched, and held—the way Sicheng is holding him now, touching him now?

He feels like Sicheng is trying to breathe him in, and then they’re suddenly scrambling to grab on to each other as if they’re both afraid that the spell will break and all of their progress will be gone and they will be back at a standstill all over again, not knowing what to do, where to go beyond that point.

He knows that though they might end up back at that point, it isn’t something he’s looking forward to.

Almost as if Sicheng hears his thoughts and disapproves of the direction that they’ve taken, he brings his hand that isn’t splayed over the small of Renjun’s back—holding him into place—cups Renjun cheek with it and pulls his face closer to his own. Renjun’s heartbeat staccatos—drumming into his ears, loud and fast—and he feels his face heat up again as he watches Sicheng swallow in contemplation before closing his eyes and dipping his head to kiss the corner of Renjun’s mouth—just shy of his lips.

Renjun can’t think straight. Screw that, he can’t think _at all_ —just wants Sicheng to _kiss me, don’t make me ask, please—_ and Sicheng’s thumb is on his bottom lip — tempting him, toying with him — he is so close Renjun can’t decipher where Sicheng ends and he begins.

He waits for the kiss. He waits for it and he _longs_ for it, would get it himself if he could be brave enough — but he’s _not_ that brave. And when Sicheng’s phone rings — a blessing disguised as a curse — instantaneously ruining whatever they had built up between them and breaks the spell with an elegance much like a bull’s in a China shop, Renjun sighs, more relieved than disappointed.

Sicheng does not move at first.

He takes some slow breaths and Renjun waits until the elder breathes easy, again, to try to move off of him. Sicheng brackets his thighs with his hands, fingers resting comfortably against the fabric of Renjun’s pyjamas like he doesn’t he want him to leave, just yet, like he’s going to find a way to let Renjun have his way with him—like he’s going to find a moment to hold his hand and make him want to stay.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Renjun kisses his forehead and hopes Sicheng can feel how he feels towards him. “Don’t be, I’m not.”

He gets up and leaves to his room — even as every single muscle in his body protests and begs him to go back.

~

Two years ago if someone had told him that he would meet Yuta again and not feel consumed by love and longing, Sicheng would’ve laughed on their face and left. Today, he would laugh because it is true. He’s meeting Yuta after two years of not even seeing or hearing of him — at all — and the worship is nowhere.

Do not get him wrong, he _loves_ Yuta.

That man is his best friend before he’s anything else, and he loves him to the ends of the universe and back. But the two of them are also at such a point in their lives where they have moved on, and they’re happy with where they are, and who they’re with.

Sicheng is happy with Renjun, and from the looks of it, so is Yuta with his husbands.

He chuckles — who would’ve thought?

Sicheng looks around himself and looks at his friends, all of whom he’s together with after two whole years and feels the missing puzzle piece fit back into his heart. Taeil and Jungwoo are celebrating their four years together and have come dancing to the club.

While they’ve refused to take any drinks because they have a baby to get back home to — even though Jungwoo’s dads are babysitting for them — they’ve announced with the brightest smiles and to quote Jungwoo, “We don’t need alcohol to have fun! High on life, baby!” as the three others just smiled and nodded along.

But that aside, Sicheng will not deny that they do end up having a lot of fun without drinking — at least without too much of it — because he and Yuta are well aware of their alcohol tolerance, they drink a little bit as the night passes.

Later sometime, Taeil and Jungwoo are enjoying themselves throwing it back on the dance floor and Sicheng and Yuta hang back at the lounge area — both of them crying laughing while seeing the new parents as they try to out-twerk each other on the dance floor, and Sicheng would perhaps blame the alcohol in his system for what happens next.

He almost kisses Yuta. That, or Yuta almost kisses him.

They don’t who leans in first, but they get awfully close to doing it, too. Except — thankfully, _thankfully_ — both of them happen to regain their senses moments before they do something that they'd have a hard time taking back. Yuta immediately mutters a barrage of apologies and so does Sicheng, backing away from each other a little bit to clear their heads.

And Sicheng knows that there’s something he wants to say to Yuta, which is far more valuable than any apology.

“Yuta hyung?”

“Hm, Winwinnie?” The nickname fills Sicheng with tender affection.

“You’re my best friend.” He says. “And I love you the most in the world.”

Saying these words has much similar an effect as that of finally breathing in some clean air after you’ve been suffocating in a smoke-filled room for far too long.

Yuta looks at him with the softest gaze.

“So are you. You’re my best friend. My favourite puzzle piece.” He smiles, a little tipsy, and a whole lot lovely. Sicheng has missed him so much.

“I know that this is not the best time or place to do this,” Sicheng confesses, before going for it anyway. “But I personally don’t think there will ever be a better timing than this—”

“—Of course you do, you’ve always been like that.” Yuta giggles. “Sorry, sorry, go on.” He raises his hands in surrender when Sicheng glares at him — half serious–half playful.

“Thank you, hyung.” Saying that comes easier to him than breathing. “Thank you for being yourself — the kindest, most selfless, funniest person that I know of — with a heart as big as the multiverse. Thank you for taking me under your wing from the moment we first met and thank you for always taking care of me. Thank you for always thinking of me even though you didn’t have to, be that as my best friend, or as my boyfriend.”

Yuta nods, his eyes watery, and lips beaming as he listens to Sicheng speak.

“Thank you for all the wonderful years of friendship. Thank you for all the amazing years filled with love and happiness, and fun and your terrible jokes. Thank you for always being yourself, my best friend. Thank you for the years that we loved each other as more than that. Thank you for being someone I could see myself spending my life with. Maybe in another universe we do spend it together, you never know, and I make you do laundry because you don’t wash your socks unless they start stinking up the house.”

He ends his words on a funny note because Yuta looks seconds away from crying, and it works because Yuta whines.

“Ah Winwinnie, I haven’t done that in a decade now!”

“But you used to!” Sicheng teases him until Yuta smacks his arm.

He basks in the cathartic feeling of finally letting go, and Yuta hugs him sideways.

“Thank you, too, Winwinnie. What would I do without you?” His voice is fond, and Sicheng grins because that’s how he feels, too.

“Win at the dance floor.” He smirks.

Yuta raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” Sicheng feels his playful side come alive.

“Your ass is grass and I’m gonna mow it.” He scoffs.

“Ohoho, is that a challenge?”

“No, just facts.”

“Bring it on, Loselose.” Both of them laugh.

Sicheng feels like coming home.

~

Renjun keeps feeling like something has gone wrong.

For the last couple of days, he’s felt hesitance rolling off of Sicheng in waves. Has even smelt his husband’s unease spike every time that he got too close. Renjun wonders what he did wrong, when just a _week_ ago they were doing so well… Was coming to Seoul a poor choice?

A thought comes to him, and it is the sort that he hasn’t had before. He doesn’t like thinking that way, but envy is, perhaps, a man’s greatest nemesis. The idea is brief — _is it because of Yuta?_ — and yet Renjun’s gut churns something unpleasant.

 _I should talk to him_ , is all he can formulate as a viable conclusion to calm his internal monologue. 

It's easier said than done. 

He keeps weighing his words. Weighing his options on how to bring it up. It should be simple to ask, and yet, all these years of him being _gifted_ and _genius_ and _prodigal_ have not been able to prepare him to deal with this.

And this is his Achilles’ heel, he supposes. He has lived his whole life surrounding himself with theories, formulae, hypotheses, proofs — always analysing a problem from deep into its roots, and computing and solving and verifying the solutions — believing everything to be mathematically quantifiable as long as he puts his hard work into it, but it all boils down to that one, sole, glaring question:

How can he quantify something that isn’t supposed to be?

How can he simplify something that is not meant to be broken down into steps, and formulas, and theorems, and proofs — how can he try binding something with calculus and algebra and rules of trigonometry, when it is meant to spread and reach beyond all boundaries?

He cannot come up with an equation that explains the way his heart floods with a gentle lull of calm and reassurance, making him feel like he’s finally inhaled that lungful of oxygen that reaches right down to his diaphragm, after having been drowning for so long without even knowing it.

Ask him to and he won’t be able to sit down and give a step-by-step solution to the question of how Sicheng makes him feel. There’s no math, no science, nothing that he can refer to, to try and explain how he feels when Sicheng laughs gleefully. Nothing to explain how he feels when he thinks about how far they’ve come from their wedding day.

It’s perhaps impossible for him to pinpoint the Cartesian coordinates of where love lives in the fabric of time. The points wherein _their_ love began and now resides. Is it when they started living together? Or is it where Sicheng accepted Renjun’s hand of friendship? Does it lie where Sicheng had bought him his favourite scented candle for his room knowing that he’d forgotten to do it himself?

 _Oh, Sicheng._ Renjun's heart flutters simply at the thought of his name. It makes him feel like something has broken inside his chest. Something soft. Something… Warm. _Sweet._

He thinks he finally understands what it’s like to have your head and your heart be at the same plane of congruence.

He thinks he finally understands what it’s like to be in love.

The thought makes him pause in his way a little, before he smiles to himself and shakes his head — his husband’s face in his mind’s eye is rose-tinted — laughing at something Renjun has said, looking proud of himself for solving something that has been puzzling both of them, looking at Renjun with a gaze just as smitten when the younger talks to him about his day.

It’s been a comfortable two years, hasn’t it? No wonder he didn’t realise it any sooner.

 _I’m in love with him_ . The realisation makes him beam and he feels so, so fond. _I’m in love with my husband._

So he gathers his courage, and knocks on the door of the master-bedroom before carefully pushing it open. Sicheng jolts at the sound and looks up in the general direction of the door from where he is sitting in the middle of the bed, head in his hands. He sobers up in an instant when he notices Renjun standing there.

Renjun feels his spirit leave his body.

Sicheng gulps, a sound that all but echoes in the stillness of their hotel room, beckons Renjun to come sit by him on the bed. The younger obeys and slowly approaches the elder, cautious as though Sicheng is a flighty animal trapped at the dark corner of a dead-end. Renjun’s blood in his veins is too loud in his ears to be just white noise.

He tentatively sits on the edge of the bed.

Try as he might not to breathe in the other, Sicheng’s scent is both inviting and sadly, anxious. Renjun swallows softly not to make a sound. His husband looks at him, and Renjun sees the tell-tale tenderness that he’s been seeing for so long now that it doesn't even feel like it started barely somewhere within a year ago. He brushes the fond thought away for now.

“Gege,” he murmurs, drumming his fingers slowly on top of the covers, “…would you want to watch a movie with me in the living room?” Renjun omits a lot of things that he was initially going to address. One look at Sicheng and his body floods with yearning.

_You're avoiding me, Gege. I know that my company is probably the last thing you want right now, but I miss you. I miss us. Tell me, what did I do wrong? Please tell me where I went wrong. Tell me, and let's try to work it out, please._

Sicheng hears all the things he doesn't say.

His eyes soften even more if it's possible, and he attempts a smile — heart-warming because despite his anxiety that Renjun can smell as clear as day, his smile reaches his twinkling eyes.

Sicheng nods, adorably so. Once, twice, thrice.

"I'd love to." He murmurs, gentle as always, pretty lips stretched into a prettier smile. "Please pick something for us to watch, and I'll join you in a minute."

Renjun nods, and moves slowly. He wishes Sicheng would ask him to stop, for him to stay here and with him, but nothing like that happens. He swallows the tinge of fear that rises in his throat and walks away.

In the living area, he flips over the Netflix choices available. It has been more than a minute as Sicheng had so asked, and Renjun begins feeling dread creep up his spine.

If he jumps a foot in the air when he hears the bedroom door open, the sound of the lock echoing in the mostly quiet suite, he will act like nothing happened at all. He pretends to very casually scroll between the choices for romantic comedies and tries to pay no mind to the cling-clang in the background as Sicheng makes his way through the kitchen.

What is he doing?

Renjun finds it becoming increasingly harder for him to just not turn around and take a look at what Sicheng is doing in the kitchen, but he determinedly focuses on the flat-screen in front, absentmindedly clicking on _When We First Met_ as he hears the faint tap-tap-tap of his husband’s footsteps heading towards his direction. He tries his best to act casual.

It’s hard to keep doing so because when Sicheng comes and sits next to him, his hands are full. The things on the tray that his husband brought with him wake up a tiny sliver of hope inside him, trickling down his spine like a dew drop on a leaf. There’s a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and a bowl filled with frozen, chocolate-dipped strawberries.

 _This looks an awful lot like a date, Gege._ Renjun wants to say, but words are hard to find.

He feels torn between keeping quiet and asking Sicheng what this is all about, but his primary instinct wins and he does not question his husband’s actions, preferring to watch him (and perhaps also, the movie) instead. Sicheng barely meets his eyes, and it reminds Renjun, funnily enough, of their wedding day.

Sure, the circumstances then had been very, _very,_ different two years ago. Both of them were different people with regards to their feelings on their union, both of them had fundamentally opposing feelings towards each other, neither of them had thought that they would be here today, and yet, Sicheng is right _here_.

_Sicheng is right here._

Sitting with Renjun on the sofa of an executive suite because Renjun couldn’t find it in himself to get his secretary to book anything else. Sicheng, sitting _with_ him, _close_ to him, arm to arm, thigh to thigh, smelling like everything Renjun has ever loved in this lifetime, smiling at something stupid some character on the screen has said when Renjun hasn’t even _looked_ at the screen once for more than five seconds at an end ever since his husband stepped into his field of vision.

He wonders if Sicheng has noticed him glancing.

He needs not to, for long.

Because moments later Sicheng’s neck turns a deep, pretty shade of red, and if the way that he squirms in place is anything of substance, he _has_.

_Gege, please look at me._

Almost as though he can hear Renjun’s prayers, Sicheng resolutely refuses to.

Renjun tries to keep his eyes away— to at least _act_ like he’s focused onto the screen in front of him as Sicheng picks up a strawberry and takes a bite, pretty lips closed around the fruit, pink, pink, pink; and it’s not an easy task to accomplish. 

_What would it be like to…_

He turns his mind away from the errant thought and clears his throat loudly enough that the sound comes out underlined with a growl, and causes poor Sicheng just the slightest of shock.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, completely embarrassed and mentally berating himself for not having enough self-control. _You weren’t like this ever, Renjun._ _What changed?_

And huh... That is something he hadn’t really stopped to consider, or had he?

Sicheng blushes, red, red, red. His fingers slowly, carefully find their place between the faux-leather of the couch and Renjun’s own, warm like the dying embers of a fire, cool like ice-cream melting on fingers in the summer heat. Renjun’s heart beats in bird-song, skip, skip, skip.

He intertwines their fingers tighter, brings Sicheng’s hand to rest on top of his lap. His wedding rings clinks against his husband’s, a faint ting of a sound that Renjun hears tenfold. He notices Sicheng sneak a glance at their wedding rings joint at the hip and smile _(oh God, it’s that special, reserved only for Yuta and now Renjun smile),_ and his heart skips a beat when Sicheng brings the intertwined fingers to his lips, then presses a kiss to the back of Renjun’s hand, just on top of his mole.

 _God,_ Renjun loves him. He is so utterly bewitched.

So Renjun throws away all and every pretence of watching the movie and not-subtly-at-all turns towards Sicheng. Watches as his husband fiddles with the fingers of his hands — so much unlike his confidence moments ago where Renjun can feel the kiss still warm and wet from the strawberry on his lips — suddenly unaware that he’s holding the younger’s hand, too.

Renjun, with his heart beating a sledgehammer against his ribcage, too loud in his ears, and his husband’s smell of ease and excitement heightening around him, begging for his senses to lock in, watches Sicheng giggle coyly under his breath, sneaking glances, biting his lip, because he _knows_ that he is being looked at, knows he’s being awed at, _knows_ he’s being revered.

Renjun watches Sicheng blush because he _knows_ Renjun is in love with him.

There are a lot of things Renjun wants to say, then, but he does not know how to say them.

Luckily for him and his emotional well-being, Sicheng changes the topic.

“Have you ever played Truth or Drink?” He asks, and Renjun mulls over the question. Well, he knows the basics of the game and how it is played, but he wouldn’t consider himself a valuable player because he rarely ever takes a shot. Honesty is the best policy, after all.

Sicheng is still holding his hand, and speaking is hard.

“More-or-less, yes.” He murmurs, all of his senses hyperaware and closing in. There’s just Sicheng, Sicheng, Sicheng.

He clenches his eyes shut hard and then unclenches them, trying to shake off the thoughts of his husband out of his mind. _Sicheng is right here, Renjun. The man that you love is right here in front of you, so get out of your head and focus on the man that is sitting right across you, holding your hand, and is asking you a question._

“Would you like to play it with me?” asks Sicheng, plainly, simply, and maybe there is no other meaning behind it — just his husband wanting to play a fun game, but it still excites him.

Renjun chuckles softly.

 _What am I supposed to do, say no?_ He thinks, and nods in reply to his husband’s proposition.

“Yes,” he smiles. “I’d love to play it with you.”

It starts simply enough, some funny questions here, some Very Personal questions there, and none of them end up taking a sip from their drinks when it's their turn to answer a question. The game is casual, slow, and Renjun doesn’t mind it because it does serve as a fun little distraction from the surprisingly fragile state of their relationship, except he still finds himself thinking back to how Sicheng has been avoiding him, and he dislikes how his instinct keeps making him feel like something is not right.

Sicheng clears his throat and Renjun focuses his attention back on him.

The movie that they’re watching is close to the climactic arc, and though Renjun might not have been watching it, he has been listening alright and it sounds like the movie is about finding the right person, meeting someone again and again for the first time, all of that jazz.

If he'd had a clear mind while watching it, maybe he’d even have liked it, given how hopeless a romantic that he is, but there are too many things looping inside his head for him to focus on all of those things at once.

“If you...” Sicheng pauses, and Renjun wonders what could be so hard to ask that he’s taking his time psyching himself up for it, when Sicheng continues his sentences. “If you had a chance to… Do this… Our wedding, meeting me, all of this, all over again... Or maybe take a different route this time around… Would you?” He asks hesitantly, and Renjun has to pause for a second to process this newly given information.

There is a lot to unpack here, really.

Renjun tries not to delve too deep into analysing the question, but alas, his instinct wins.

Why is he asking Renjun if he’d want to redo this? Is it because he’s thinking of it? It is because he’s looking for a way out? After two years of living together and seemingly appreciating each other, does Sicheng still _want_ an out? What is Renjun supposed to say to this besides the truth?

“You can take a sip, that’s alright.” Sicheng sounds infinitely disappointed for some reason as he says that. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

 _It’s not that I don’t want to answer, gege,_ Renjun thinks. _I just don’t know if my answer is what you want to hear._

“I wouldn’t.” Renjun declares softly. “I wouldn’t take the chance to redo it.”

He forgoes any explanation. That is his answer and if Sicheng does not feel the same way then he is going to have to talk about it to him directly, and not under the guise of a fun little drinking game.

“Why?” asks the elder. 

“It’s my turn to ask.” Renjun brings his glass of wine to his lips and smiles around the rim. “Would you, gege?”

Sicheng looks at him, and stares for a moment as if he has a hard time believing that Renjun would ask something as ridiculous as this. Well, there is a first time for everything, Renjun reckons.

“I wouldn’t.” Sicheng murmurs with a tone of finality, shaking his head. Renjun still thinks he is a worthy example of grace.

“Why?” he asks Renjun as the movie in the background reaches the climax, and Renjun sighs internally because he ends up missing the way that it ends.

He exhales, kisses his teeth.

“Things happening the way they did, brought us here, gege.” Renjun looks at Sicheng when he bares his heart to him. 

“Yes, once upon a time… I was bitter. I was bitter because while I had never known about your existence until the week before our wedding, I had still developed an affinity to the idea of an _us._ Long before I even knew that there was a _you._ I was hurt because you had a life of your own while all I was, was… A boy who had grown up too fast and had never experienced the world as much as he had wanted to.” He laughs, a mirthless little sound, cursing himself inwardly for starting a pity party in response to a simple question.

“But I wouldn’t change a thing that we did because I’m selfish.” Speaking the truth and facing his feelings is not as easy as books and movies make it seem. They never tell you that your chest feels like it is going to cave in, explode, all at the same time. “I like this life that we have. It’s an entirely different matter if you don’t, though, but even then, I cannot blame you.” 

Renjun clears his throat, looks at the liquid swirling inside his glass, trying to avoid the weight of Sicheng’s scrutiny. “You were in love with someone. You wanted to start a life with him. If my family had never showed up with the arrangement of the betrothal, if I had somehow refused, maybe you would still have your life with Yuta. Maybe, today, you would be happier.”

He tries to smile at him, but he knows it comes out as a pathetic little grimace.

Sicheng swallows and the sound echoes, or maybe it is just Renjun who's feeling the walls close in.

“It’s your turn to ask.” murmurs the elder.

Renjun feels like the lowest of the low when a question comes to him instantly, but he swallows the bad taste in his mouth and asks it anyway. His instinctual need to _know_ far outweighs any of his logic, really.

“If you had the chance to give this all up right now and go back to how your life used to be, before our wedding, before me, back to Yuta so you could pick up where you left off, would you take it?”

For what feels like an entire minute, Sicheng refuses to speak. Renjun feels his nerves bother him, but he attempts to calm himself down lest he reek of it and make Sicheng nervous too.

"If you'd asked me this question a few months into our wedding, my answer would have been a definite yes." gulps Sicheng, and Renjun feels his heart is about to give out, yet again. 

"But right now? After more than two years of living together, of willingly sharing a home, of respecting each other, of learning to appreciate each other's company, after building a life with you that both of us are more than happy and comfortable living?" The elder takes a sip from his glass of wine, Renjun begins to smile because those words that his husband has just said are _nice,_ and they give him hope, and a little bit of confidence.

"No." says Sicheng, with a cocky little upturn of his lips. "No. I wouldn't."

Renjun smiles fully and turns his face away.

_That sounds an awful lot like a love confession, gege._

The game then changes back to them asking each other simpler questions again, things on the more trivial side of the spectrum as opposed to _emotions,_ and the TV in the background is just on for convenience's sake at this point — a source of comforting white noise.

Renjun feels a little stuck. It’s not just him, however. It feels as if both him and Sicheng are stuck at a point and don't know how to make a smooth transition into the next point in their lives, no matter how hard they may be trying to. He is someone who believes in facing his problems head on, and is more than glad to know that his husband has the same belief when it comes to problem solving, so he takes the matters into his hands once again.

When his turn comes to ask, he comes right out with it.

"Gege, why have you been avoiding me?" He looks straight into Sicheng's eyes and maintains steady eye-contact. "Ever since you came back from that outing with your friends?"

Sicheng makes a face for a brief second before he pulls himself together, and stares back at Renjun, apprehensively? _Anxiously?_

The air around them smells very, _very_ faintly of bleach.

Renjun is expecting a wide variety of answers in response to his question, but the one he gets is none of those.

"We almost kissed. Yuta and I, we _almost_ kissed."

HIs grip around the wine glass tightens unconsciously until he almost snaps the delicate stem into two. He doesn't, thankfully, because he remembers where he is and who he is talking to.

"Oh?" He has to exercise a painful amount of self-restraint not to do a double take. "Is that so?"

Sicheng nods sincerely and Renjun wants to laugh and cry simultaneously.

"Yuta and I — almost kissed that night at the club."

 _Yes, I got that. Please stop saying it, it hurts me to hear that._ Renjun verbalises none of that, choosing to nod instead.

"Right." He smiles, fairly sardonically. He'd mentally berate himself for the attitude on any other occasion, but can he be blamed if he's a little terrified of losing the man that he loves? "So… Right. Uh… What— what conclusion did you draw from it, gege?"

It's hard to keep calm and sound like he is not panicking inside. All of his earlier confidence and bravado is gone now, and the air reeks of bleach, bleach, and more bleach.

"I'm not in love with him anymore. I love him, sure, but only as my best friend. He always was my best friend, first, you know?" Sicheng's voice is so tender, and Renjun can't fault him. He loves him too much to even think of holding a grudge.

"I won't lie to you and say that I regret doing it. I didn’t know we’d end up like that. It happened — quite a spur of the moment thing — but we went with it — and maybe if circumstances were different, maybe if we were different people, we would have seen it through. But we aren’t and we didn’t. And all these days I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you, but I wasn’t sure of how you would take it. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have with this.” The elder sounds remorseful regardless of him saying that he does not regret it. Renjun gulps and nods, scooting closer to him.

“I'm sure I've told you before that Yuta and I… We weren't allowed the time to have any closure. Be as it may, I _had_ proposed to him. I _had_ wanted to marry him. I'd wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. We both had." Sicheng's voice cracks and he takes a sip of the wine to give himself some time. Renjun breathes slowly as he makes sense of the things that Sicheng tells him, viewing them logically for once, instead of emotionally.

It's hard to find logic when it comes to the man that he loves, but he tries. He tries his best.

"But then a week later I was marrying you and giving you a replica of the exact same ring that I had proposed to him with. He didn't know that he could actually conceive until a month after our wedding when he'd found out that we'd made a baby together without even knowing, or intending to." His voice breaks with emotion this time, and Renjun's heart hurts for Yuta because he never knew that. 

To watch the love of your life promise theirs to someone else because there is no other way, and finding out a month later that you're carrying the child of someone is no longer there… How painful must it have been?

"I'd moved with you to a place where I had no one. No friends. No relatives. Nothing. No one. No one besides you but I didn't want to let you in. He and I were both completely alone and isolated thanks to both circumstance and choice, and it was a sad affair that we couldn't be there for each other as friends. _Because he is my best friend, as I have always been his._ " Sicheng sniffs and Renjun looks at his eyes in alarm, but thankfully no tears seem to be in sight, just yet. He grabs his husband's shoulder and massages it firmly to hopefully alleviate some of the tension that he can see.

"But no." There is that self-assurance in his tone again. "All of that having been said. I'm not in love with him, anymore. That is my conclusion."

“I am sorry, nevertheless.” Sicheng apologises, his voice firm and reassuring, and Renjun knows he means it.

“All is forgiven, gege.” Renjun murmurs, trying to smile at his husband, uncertain of how it comes out on his face. But, he means it, and he hopes that Sicheng knows it, too.

Renjun does not notice that he has been holding his breath for the past few seconds, as he brings the glass of wine to his mouth again to take yet another grounding sip of the liquid. His mind is going a little haywire as it tries to deal with this new influx of emotion and information, and he fails to notice that his body requires oxygen to be functioning properly.

"Please breathe, I haven't told you that I'm in love with you, yet."

Renjun spews out his drink.

Aha, there goes that mouthful of wine all over the coffee table.

Sicheng bursts out laughing.

"I'm sorry what!?" Renjun whisper-yells while grabbing the paper towel offered to him and wipes his mouth with it, followed by the surface of the table.

Sicheng chuckles and Renjun has never felt more in love with someone.

"I suppose it's a bit counterproductive now…" Sicheng grins and it's the most beautiful smile that Renjun has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. "But I would like to formally announce that I am, in fact, very much in love with you, and would very much love to spend the rest of my life with you. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk."

Renjun feels full of love, light, and happiness. His heart soars and he isn't sure how to stop smiling. He feels like he's going to cry because of how happy he is. He also wants to smack Sicheng for the confession. _TED Talk? Formal announcement?_

Sicheng speaks again, Renjun watches him with a gaze that is brazen in its devotion.

"Jokes apart, I really do adore you. I have for a long enough time now and I thought I was being _very_ obvious with my feelings so I have _no idea at all_ why you never caught on. Was I really not being as obvious as I'd thought I was?" He asks, scratching his head adorably in confusion, and Renjun laughs before replying to him because he is sure that his answer will get a rise out of his husband.

"I had a hunch…" He says, weighing his words carefully. "…but I was terrified to presume."

Sicheng's love-sick grin turns into a pout.

"So, you mean…" He narrows his eyes at Renjun and the younger raises his hand up in surrender. "…You had a hunch but you never said anything and let us… Just… Tiptoe around each other? When it could've saved us so much pining and angsting if you'd just said something?" Sicheng purses his lips as his voice takes on a Sahara-dry tone.

Renjun screeches very, very gracefully. _(No, he doesn't. But he'd rather not admit it.)_

"Only at first— and you— you could've said something too, gege!" 

Sicheng chuckles and rubs his face with his hand not holding the glass.

"Fair enough." He giggles. He _giggles_ and Renjun wants to swoon because of how lovely his giggle is. "I'm saying it now."

He keeps his glass away and takes Renjun's from him to do the same. Then he holds both of his husband's hands in his own and looks into the younger man's love-laden eyes, his thumb tracing circles on the skin of his knuckles.

"I love you, and I am choosing you now. To adore you, and to be with you for as long as the world lets me. I promise." He presses a kiss to both of Renjun's hands and Renjun barely suppresses tears.

He tries to speak, but his voice fails him, choked by a stubborn ball of tears lodged right by his larynx.

"I know that back then we didn't make any wedding vows for each other, so I'd like to think that these are just the start of mine." Sicheng clears his throat as the emotions begin to well up for him as well, and his eyes now shine with twinkling stars. "I'll make you a new vow every so often, all throughout the rest of our lives, and I want you to look forward to that, amongst all of the other things." 

Renjun nods happily, wholly, fully besotted, and meets Sicheng halfway for a kiss — certain that at some point in the night he might end up crying. Murmuring _I love you'_ s on Sicheng's mouth after every other peck, feeling the love of his life smile into it — even if it means that Renjun ends up making out with his husband's teeth more than his pouty mouth — he realises, full of joy, that this is what it is.

_This_ feels like falling in love.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> so that was something.
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading if you did, thank you for giving this fic a chance. 💞💗💕💖❤
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/glitteryongs) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/glitteryongs) 💌


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